


Moving the Stars

by silverspidertm2



Series: Stories from Me to You [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Cartoon), Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Drama, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-04 23:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11000922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverspidertm2/pseuds/silverspidertm2
Summary: Somewhere deep down, Yondu had always known that only in death could he truly find redemption. He’d saved his son. It was all he should’ve hoped for, but as always he wanted to give Peter more.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my very first Guardians fic and my first fic in.... 2+ years! Obligatory spoiler warning for the second movie and also for some semi-recent comics. There was a character introduced in both the comics and the animated series who I instantly fell in love with, but due to the changes the movies made to Peter's parentage, I sadly doubt she'll appear in the MCU. I intend to remedy that in fanfics!

The first thing Peter did, after the funeral fireworks were over, was listen to all the songs on the Zune straight through. He didn’t bother to lock the door to his quarters, but everyone knew better than to bother him. Except Groot, but that was alright. The little guy was a good companion and probably the only other being on the ship who enjoyed music as much as he did. The two of them spent hours listening to it, and slowly, ever so slowly, Peter felt the tightness in his chest give a little and the haze of grief retreat for a time.

The second thing he did, once his head was clearer, was backup all the music onto the Milano’s main hard drive. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought to do that before, considering how much punishment his Walkman had taken over the years, but better late than never. Said Walkman had been destroyed by Ego, but audiophile that he was, Peter knew every artist, every song down to the specific version, that was now missing from his collection. He’d make it a personal mission to recover them later as soon as the opportunity came.

It was while running the backups of the Zune that he stumbled on something that didn’t look like it belonged. Almost all of the space on the device was taken up by music files and a handful of music videos that he had nearly deleted on the first watch-through - seriously, what was wrong with people’s tastes on Terra these days? - but a single folder caught his attention because it didn’t look like any of the other system files.

Oh yeah, and it was labeled ‘For Quill.’

Peter cocked his head, staring at the screen. Despite what many thought or the image he sometimes propagated, he was not stupid. Little bottles labeled ‘Drink me’ should be given a wide berth. Certainly both Gamora and Rocket would probably advise him to open it in an isolated system instead of on the Milano’s main hard drive, if he had to open it at all. What had Kraglin said? That Yondu had picked up the Zune in a junk shop for him a while back. Whatever beef he’d had with some of the Ravagers, Peter highly doubted that any them had enough interest or foresight to infect the device. More likely than not, it hadn’t left Yondu’s position until his death which meant that the contents of the folder were probably from him.

“What do you think, buddy?” he asked the small tree perched on the console at his right hand.

“I am Groot,” the child gave an emphatic nod, then extended his twig-like finger and pressed a button on the keyboard, opening the folder.

“Okay, but if we blow up, I’m blaming you,” Peter warned him, but his eyes quickly turned back to the screen.

There were two small files in the folder, a text and a video, judging by the formats and size. Peter clicked on the video first and wished he’d braced himself somehow. His breath caught as Yondu’s blue face filled the screen. The man looked the same as Peter remembered him, face scarred and weathered, which he supposed meant that the recording couldn’t have been too old. The fin that adorned his head was the large prototype, so Peter guessed it might have been made at some point on their flight to Ego’s planet.

“Boy...” Yondu rasped from the screen without preamble.

“Please don’t let this be one of those ‘If you’re watching this, I’m dead’,” Peter muttered sarcastically to himself.

“...if you got your hands on this, and I’m still’ kickin’, put it back where you found it, and don’t let me catch you goin’ through my shit ever again.”

“Close enough,” Peter rolled his eyes. “And I never went through your crap! Well, maybe that one time…”

“If I did bite the big one and Kraglin gave this to you, well… that’s a damn shame. Hope I went out fightin’. Blaze of glory an’ all that.”

“You did, old man.”

He knew the futility of talking to a screen, but somehow, despite the stinging in his eyes, Peter felt better. ‘Blaze of glory’ may not have been quite the description, but as far as anyone, especially he, was concerned, Yondu had died a hero.

“Probably you know all about Ego by now,” the recording went on. “Sorry ‘bout that. Didn’t know what he did to all those other kids ‘till the last one, but that’s no excuse. I should’a told ya years ago, but I figure if I had, you would’a just rushed off and gotten yourself killed. Best way to get you to do something ‘s always to tell ya not to.”

Star-Lord snorted. That was fair.

“Anyway, hope you’re still alive, Quill. Take a look at the other file, do with it what you like. Probably too late for most of ‘em, but...well, do with it what you like,” the image repeated, red eyes staring into some point beyond the camera before looking back at him. “Peter…”

He blinked, refocusing as well. Yondu had almost never called him by his given name. It has always been either ‘Quill’ or ‘boy’, occasionally ‘son’ when the captain was in a particularly good mood. To hear his first name was… jarring.

“I ain’t good at this sentimental stuff,” the Centurion admitted, “but I’m glad we didn’t hand ya over to Ego like we was s’pposed to. Or eat ‘ya,” he added with a smirk. “Wasn’t really gonna do that.”

“No shit, asshole.”

Reflexively, Peter swiped a fist over his eyes. Ever helpful, Groot produced a leaf and offered it to him. On the screen, the older man took a deep breath and nodded to himself, as if resigned that he couldn’t keep the recording going forever. The human wondered if even then Yondu suspected he wasn’t going to make it off Ego alive.

“Make me proud, guardian.” Peter was surprised that the last word was spoken without mockery. “Give the galaxy hell.”

The video reached the end, and for a moment the blue face lingered, paused on the screen. Peter stared at it for a moment, until he felt Groot poke him gently in the arm.

“I’m fine,” he told the tree-child and closed the recording. “Let’s see about this other thing the old man left.”

It turned out to be a single page, a short list that Peter frowned at for a moment, before his eyes widened in realization. Names… planets… dates. _Holy shit! These are…_ He scrolled down to almost the very bottom, and his own name stared back at him. Peter Jason Quill, Terra, and a date that translated to 1988. He scanned through the rest of the list, feeling bile rise in his throat.

These are Ego’s kids, his _siblings_ , at least the ones Yondu had been hired to bring to the Celestial. Peter hadn’t seen the cavern with the bones in the guts of the planet, but he knew this was a drop in the bucket. He was grateful he hasn’t eaten much since the funeral, otherwise the contents of his stomach were likely to be decorating the console by now.

Suddenly he was angry, furious! _Do with it what you like_ , the blue man had said on the recording. What the hell was he _supposed_ to do? Ego and Yondu were both dead. There was no one to punish, no one to rage at on behalf of so many dead kids. With a grunt of disgust and frustration, Peter shoved his chair back from the console and stomped to the other side of his quarters to sink heavily onto the bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. _What a nightmare…_

He didn’t bother to look up until the covers rustled a little and a cool, smooth vine snaked around his wrist. Groot was trying to get his attention, and Peter supposed he should respond. It wasn’t the little guy’s fault he had cosmic sized daddy issues. A generic reassurance that he was fine was on the tip of his tongue, but then he realized that the sapling wasn’t even looking at him. He was looking and pointing back at the consol, tapping the screen instantly with an extended vine.

“I am Groot. I am Groot.”

Peter stared at the screen. It took a moment for his vision to clear, but suddenly he knew exactly why Groot was trying to get him to pay attention. The list of children was sorted by dates. Dates of abduction, Peter guessed, if his own was anything to go buy. There was only one name below his own and the date was empty.

 _Probably too late for most of ‘em_ , Yondu had said.

‘Most’... not ‘all’.

* * *

He didn’t tell the rest of the team at first. They had been through enough, and embarking on another quest that involved his own personal angst didn’t seem fair. What he did - after convincing Groot not to tell either - was contract Kraglin. Yondu’s former second was with another group of Ravagers, helping with a scavenging mission to some ancient planet, an arrangement that the man admitted felt temporary at best without his former captain.

“What do you need, Quill?” he asked as soon as the call was established, voice casual.

“Hey, Kraglin. Question: ever heard of a place called Spartax?”

“Spartax, the planet, or Spartax, the empire?”

“Err… either? Both?”

“Well, Spartax, the planet, is the capital of Spartax, the empire, out in the Shi'ar galaxy,” the Ravager rubbed his chin. “Never been there myself, but the cap’n had least once that I recall.”

“Do you happen to remember when?”

“Little while after that whole mess on Xandar.”

“How’d he seem when he came back?”

“Fine, I recon,” the other man shrugged. “Didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout it. Why d’you ask?”

“I think,” Peter considered just how much to share, “I might need to go there. Anything I need to know?”

Kraglin shrugged again. “Not the craziest people in the universe, but I wouldn’t go lookin’ for trouble with their royals. They got a hefty fleet and I ain’t sure sure they’ve ever heard of you guys all the way out there. They’re allied with Novas, so you might be able to get ‘em to put in a good word.”

That was good to know, but Peter wasn’t thrilled with the idea of going through the bureaucratic channels. Aside from the fact that he was still a pirate at heart, if they they came to Spartax publicizing their connection to the Nova Corps and inevitably got in some kind of trouble like they always did.... Peter might have been a part-time outlaw, but he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of starting in intergalactic war.

He thanked Kraglin, cut the com, and leaned back in his chair, thinking. What did he have? A planet, a name, and the hope that at least when Yondu was there a short while back, the person he would be looking for was still alive. Not much to go on, Peter had to admit, but he’d gone after targets on less in his Ravager days. All he needed to do was a little research and some time.

Unfortunately what he hadn’t counted on was that the M-ship was much smaller than he was used to from his solo-Ravager runs. Not that he was one to talk, but now he was constantly tripping over everything: weapons, electronics, various plant matter, and finally people. Part of being captain involved anything and everything to keep the ship flying, which often times meant keeping Rocket from blowing holes in it, keeping Groot from getting into places he didn’t belong, and Drax from crashing the ship in his attempts at improving his piloting skills.

Then there was Gamora.

Where the rest of the crew took the extensive time spent in his quarters as a need to grieve in private, Gamora had given him exactly three days before she planted herself in his doorway, arms crossed under her chest. The look she gave him was a strange mixture of sympathy and determination. Peter quickly shut off his screen and put on his most innocent expression, which of course only made him look more suspicious.

“I’m fine.” The phrase had become almost a reflex over the last few days. “Totally, completely, 100% a-okay.”

Gamora said nothing, only raised a brow. He cringed slightly.

“I swear.”

“Peter…”

“Okay, look.” He was out of his seat and striding to her, irrationally hoping that the few inches he had on her would give him an ounce of extra persuasion. “Remember that show we talked about where one person is willing to open up and the other is not because they’re a jerk? I’m not being a jerk right now, I promise.”

“I never thought you were.” A green palm came to rest over his heart. “I think you’re still grieving, and it’s a bad place to do… whatever it is you’re obviously plotting.”

Peter let out a shallow breath and closed his eyes momentarily because, damn, she knew him all-too well. He covered her hand with his, their foreheads pressed together, and despite always being a tactile person, Peter was surprised just how much comfort he drew from the simple contact.

“I’ll tell you,” he promised. “When there’s something, you’ll be the first to know, but right now I’m not even sure if there’s anything to talk about. Trust me?”

The green skinned woman signed, still a bit frustrated, but nodded. “You’ll tell me before you decide to do anything foolish?”

He laughed softly and wrapped his arms around her. “Cross my heart.”

* * *

A week later he had the opportunity to make good on that promise, but still reluctant to involve the rest of the crew, Peter went with the most brilliant pretext for a cross-galactic trip he could come up with. In his defense, he thought ‘shore leave’ would be a much easier sell. Instead he was met with a look of confusion from Drax, and the Terran just _knew_ that his crewmate was going to ask where is the shore and where is it going.

“Vacation!” Quill declared, arms spread wide to emphasize his point. “Resorts, bars, casinos…”

“They got all that on Knowhere.” Rocket made a face, clearly underwhelmed. “Why go ‘cross the whole freakin’ galaxy?”

“To... try somewhere new?”

It sounded pathetic even to his own ears, he admitted miserably, shoulders sagging. A first-class pilot, he may be, a great scavenger and thief. But Peter knew he was a lousy liar. His rather impressive ability to bullshit filled in for that in the best of times, and he was hoping now would be such a case. He looked at Gamora, who thus far had said nothing, eyes silently pleading for help. She held his gaze for a heartbeat then gave such a casual shrug, Peter hadn’t thought it was possible for the former assassin.

“It’s a change of scenery,” she said and turned on her heel. The small sentient tree hopped from Drax’s shoulder to hers, and the two of them headed out of the cockpit.

“Great!”

With Gamora’s apparent blessing for the excursion, Rocket and Drax didn’t offer any further protests. Peter swung himself into the main pilot chair and punch in the series of jumps. Most of it could be done on autopilot, but they had to be spaced out due to the number of them. Overall the trip should take a standard day or so, which was plenty of time to make the various calls he needed and make good on a promise. He briefly entertained the idea of asking Groot to produce some flowers but decided against it.

Even without the flowers, his behavior was still obviously out of the norm because when he showed up at Gamora’s quarters the next day just as they were about to make the last jump to Spartax, she gave him an odd look.

“Did you… shave?”

“And showered.” Peter grinned from ear to ear.

“And your hair is no longer a disaster. Impressive. What’s the occasion?”

“We’re going to a dance recital.”

He was hoping she would look at least a little surprised at such a seemingly random statement, but apparently Gamora had come to know him very well because she barely blinked. “Am I to assume this is payment for finding out whatever it is you’re up to on this planet?”

“It’s _part_ of what I’m up to.” His attempts to sound sly faltered, face growing serious. “Please, Gamora? I don’t want to go alone.”

* * *

He wondered what must have been going through her head when, an hour later, they were planetside. Certainly Peter never thought he’d be sitting in the back of a school auditorium in a tight uncomfortable chair surrounded by what he assumed to be doting parents. Most were nearly indistinguishable from humans but as Spartax was the capital of the empire that bore its name, Peter spotted at least six or seven other species in the audience, so he and Gamora had been largely ignored.

A few moments later the lights were dimmed, and several small children in leotards began to make their way onto the stage. Even in the darkened room, he could see Gamora’s brow inching upwards.

“Alright, I give up,” she admitted. “What are we doing here? This doesn’t seem like your type of dancing. So unless you left a love-child on Spartax...”

“No!” It took everything he had not to choke on that laugh, though admittedly given his history and where he’d dragged them, it was not a completely unreasonable assumption. “Just give it a minute.”

Okay, so Gamora had been right. Ballet was definitely _not_ his thing. His eyes were well on their way to glazing over at the stream of children Peter was having trouble distinguishing. He was beginning to fear he’d made a mistake, but when he saw what he was here for, he knew her instantly and his breath caught. Gamora must have noticed his reaction because, she leaned in and whispered.

“Peter, who is that child?”

On the stage, the little girl in the pink tutu was the very picture of grace. Her motions fluid, hair done up in two little puffs without a single curl out of place. Peter watched, entranced, as she leapt into the air and landed effortlessly on the toes of one foot. If he’d tried that at her age or any other, the Star-Lord thought wryly, his face would have a very fast meeting with the ground, no question. He couldn’t even imagine how she did that series of spins without losing her balance, but thirty seconds later, the little girl was all smiles, wide brown eyes shining with the reflected lights of the auditorium, arms outstretched to accept her standing ovation from the audience.

Following everyone’s lead, Peter and Gamora stood as well.

“That’s Victoria,” he said quietly, answering her earlier question without taking his eyes off the little girl on the stage. “My baby sister.”

Out of the corner of his vision, Peter saw his companion’s face soften all at once in understanding and her hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.” He tore his eyes away just long enough to turn an enormous grin her way. “Guess I only got the _second_ best dance moves in the family, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're not familiar with Victoria, I highly suggest you check out the Legendary Star-Lord comics and Guardians animated series where she appears. She and Peter have a much smaller age gap than in this story, but I did borrow a lot of elements from her appearances in both, including the fact that she was a ballerina when she was a little girl :) (see Legendary Star-Lord #12)
> 
> Also note to the readers of my Changeling Sequence series. Sadly I doubt I'll be completing that any time soon, if ever. Family tragedy that has kept me from writing for a while makes it very painful to write that particular fic. I won't say more except to say I'm very sorry and thank you to all the positive feedback I've gotten on that series throughout the years.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left comments, kudoes and faves! I’m glad you like the story. Keep ‘em coming!

They lingered by the exit to the right of the stage when most of the parents and children had gone. Peter was fidgeting, a sure sign that he was nervous, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. The girl had disappeared, presumably to change back into normal clothes, but a serious-looking woman made her way down the short series of steps toward them. Peter wasn’t sure what species she was. Her features were humanoid, but her face was a shimmering paper-white that became a near dark gold star-like pattern as it reached her bronze hairline and delicate pointed ears.

“Mr. Quill, I presume.”

“That’s me.” They shook hands. “Thanks for responding. I… ah… I know it must’ve sounded weird.”

Because no matter how many times he rephrasing the communication earlier, there was no good way of putting “Hi, I’m Peter Quill, pseudo-hero, pseudo-space pirate, and you know that little girl you’re in charge of? Yeah, funny story, I’m actually her long-lost big brother, so if you wouldn’t mind me dropping by for a visit…”. Any normal adult would have called the authorities and made sure the Milano never entered Spartax orbit.

The golden alien woman smiled. “Not as strange as you might think. I’ve actually been expecting you for a while now.”

“You have?” His eyebrows shot up. Who knew he was coming?

She nodded. “Your father came to see me a little while ago. Said that if anyone else ever came by asking about Victoria, I should deny she was here. He was adamant that under no circumstances was I to give her to anyone but you.”

“‘Give her’?” Gamora echoed, but Peter barely heard it. He was still stuck on the first thing the woman had said.

“My _father_ was here?” Alarm bells pounded against his skull as all kinds of nightmarish images of Ego poured into his mind all at once. If the Celestial had gotten his hands on that child before he…

“You seem surprised,” the woman’s bronze brows drew together. “Is Yondu Udonta _not_ your father? Sorry if there’s a misunderstanding. Just the way he talked about you, I assumed he was.”

 _Yondu…_ It was _Yondu_ who had come to see her. As the panic subsided and his heart resumed a more normal rhythm, Peter saw that that made sense. Kraglin had said that the Ravager captain had gone to Spartax after the battle of Xandar, which was when he must have spoken to this woman and passed on the warning.

“It’s a long story.” He swallowed. “Yondu is… _was_ my dad. He died a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” the woman nodded, blessedly not prying further. “He seemed… he sounded like he cared about you a great deal. Certainly he did everything possible to ensure your sister was safe, but we can talk more about it later. Victoria is probably ready by now. Let me go get her.”

Left alone with Gamora for a moment, Peter leaned back against the stage, frowning. Fathers were still an uncomfortable topic - he couldn’t imagine when that would not be the case - but there was something else was bothering him, and he couldn’t quite figure out what. Peter tilted his head and looked at his companion.

“How is it that that lady and Drax both figured me and Yondu were actually blood?”

Gamora shrugged. “It would be unlikely but not completely outlandish. You know full well there are many beings with very diverse heritages in the universe. How is being part Centurion any stranger than being part Celestial?”

 _That’s it._ Peter snorted, having finally figured out what the ‘problem’ was.

“Did you know,” he said to her, “that on Terra a lot of people would probably be surprised Victoria and I are siblings? Actually ‘surprised’ is a nice word for it. Some would be downright hostile about it.”

“Because of your age difference?” It was an obvious shot in the dark on Gamora’s part. “You _are_ old enough to be her father.”

“Ah, no, that’s not why, but that’d probably piss people off too.”

“I really don’t understand,” she admitted.

Of course she didn’t, and Peter was grateful for it. Because the galaxies might be full of warring factions and empires - Kree and Xandarians being a prime example - but he’d yet to meet anyone in space who cared what shade of beige, brown, blue, green and so on one's skin was or that it didn’t precisely match your relatives. He’d lost track how many different species came and went from the single Ravager faction he’d been a part of. The universe had bigger problems than flesh tone. He explained as much to Gamora, who was clearly having trouble with the concept.

“That make no sense,” she finally declared. “Your Terra sounds awful.”

“Not everyone’s like that, but yeah, a lot of people are douchebags,” Peter agreed. “Let’s just say I’m glad I’m here, not there.”

There was little to add and good timing too, because in that moment the Spartoi woman returned, Victoria trailing quietly at her heels, now dressed more casually and dragging a duffel bag behind her. Brandy-brown eyes glanced up at him and quickly looked away, and Peter wondered if the girl had been told anything about him. He looked at her caregiver, seeking permission, and the woman nodded, gently nudging the girl toward him.

“Hi, Victoria.” He dropped to one knee so they were more or less of a height and put on his most charming smile. “Do you know who I am?”

After a short pause, she nodded. “Star-Lord.”

“Yes!” His eyes lit up, and Peter knew he was far more excited about that than he should have been. He could practically feel Gamora rolling her eyes behind him. “I mean… I’m Peter. Guess I’m your big brother. Pretty cool, huh?”

She blinked at him, either having trouble with the idea in general or simply unimpressed. He tried a different approach. “I saw your performance just now. Awesome dance moves up there.”

The little girl tilted her head slightly, a spark of interest clearly visible. “You like ballet?”

“Actually I don’t know ballet that well,” Peter admitted, “but I like dancing in general. I’m not nearly as good as you, though.”

“I can show you how!” Her prior shyness melted away with talk of a topic she felt at ease with.

Peter inwardly winced at the mental image, and Gamora outright laughed. “I bet Rocket would pay good money to see _that_.”

“Uhh… yeah, maybe,” he offered, not wanting to alienate the girl just as she’d started talking to him. “Listen, why don’t we go get some ice cream or something and you can tell me all about it? They _do_ have ice cream on Spartax, right?”

It wasn’t exactly ice cream, but some kind of fruit sorbet. Peter made a mental note to introduce her to the real thing later. Gamora and the girl’s minder hung back a few paces, still within earshot but not enough that their presence was an intrusion. Not for the first time Peter wondered who the woman was and why Victoria was in her care instead of with her mother. He tried to broach the subject as delicately as possible, but the girl immediately locked her eyes on the sidewalk in front of her, filled her mouth with a spoon-full of sorbet, and gave a tiny shrug.

Apparently parents were a universally sucky subject. Peter was both grateful and unsurprised that she didn’t ask about Ego.

Instead the girl seemed particularly interested in his travels, having never been off-world herself. Peter was careful to give her a sanitized version of his various adventures which felt an awful lot like navigating a minefield. With Groot on board, the crew had made a half-hearted effort to be kid-friendly around him, but that effort was often less than successful.

“Where are you from?” she asked at one point.

“Oh, here and there,” Peter waved a hand expansively. “I was born on Terra but I... err… went into space when I was a little older than you. At least I think I was. How old are you, anyway?”

“Seven.”

That made sense. Spartax was very similar to Earth in both size and orbit, making their years approximately the same. It was also probably why Ego hadn’t had a chance to come after Victoria before his demise. Peter had been eight years old when he was taken, and despite the fact that Yondu had kept him, Ego hadn’t been in any hurry, certainly not enough to deal with such a small child. Why bother? The Celestial had been billions of years old already, had gone through countless children. If neither of them had held what he needed, he would have just killed them and moved on to the next. Ego never cared about any of his children beyond being a means to an end.

But Yondu had cared. Cared enough to keep Peter alive and out of the Celestial’s cross-hairs for over 26 years and enough to find out who was next in line and warn Victoria’s caregiver. It still hurt to think of him, and there were more than a few things he was still angry about, but Peter knew there would never be a day where he wouldn’t be grateful for everything the Centurion had done for him and his sister.

All things considered, it looked like she was doing pretty well. Spartax had a something between an orphanage and foster care system, with several kids living together in group homes with enough adults per group that it worked out. Certainly someone had bothered to encourage Victoria’s talents, and aside from being a little quiet, she seemed to be fairly happy and healthy. Which was why her next words took him aback.

“Am I going to live with you now?”

“Umm…” Peter chanced a glance over his shoulder at Gamora and the other woman. Anyone else might not have noticed but he could have sworn his friend had mouthed ‘no’. The Spartoi woman’s face remained unreadable. He decided to go with the most honest answer. “I don’t know.”

Victoria stopped dead, mouth pursed nose wrinkling slightly. “If you didn’t want me, why did you bother coming at all?”

And suddenly Peter felt like he seeing himself, age eight, at the exact moment he realized that no one was going to take him back to Earth. He remembered seeing himself in Yondu’s eyes and seeing a little boy doing all he could not to cry. As a kid, he remembered thinking how pathetic he was for ever having hope. As an adult and looking at the little girl in front of him, he could practically _see_ emotional shields going up.

“Can we have a moment?” he looked at the two women who also stopped a few feet away.

He took the empty sorbet container from Victoria’s sticky hands, stacked it in his own, and tossed both in the nearest trash container. For all her pouting, Victoria didn’t complain when he picked her up and settled her on a bench a few feet away, hunching down in front of her.

“If it was just up to me,” Peter held both of her hands between his much larger ones, “you’d be on the Milano right now and half on your way to being totally sick of all my Terran music. But, Vicky, there’re rules. I can’t just take you off-world because I feel like it. It’s called ‘kidnapping’. Trust me. I know all about it.”

Somewhere from beyond the grave, Yondu was surely laughing his ass off at him. Even Victoria, at the tender age of seven and having known him for barely a few hours, was giving him a look that couldn’t have spelled you’re-full-of-shit-brother if she’d shouted it out in the middle of her performance.

“I thought you said you’re a pirate.”

“Even pirates have codes, baby sis.”

It sounded more than a bit hypocritical coming from him, because honestly Peter had no idea how to feel about the fact that Yondu had broken the Ravager code. Those actions had resulted in the deaths of all his siblings on that list that came before him, but chances were if Yondu hadn’t taken them to Ego, someone else would have and the results would have been the same. And that someone else might not have decided to keep eight-year-old Peter…

“Why’d you want to go off into space anyway?” he tried, attempting a weak smile for her sake. “You have your dance lessons here, your teachers, probably friends...?”

“Aren’t there lessons anywhere else?” Victoria challenged, and he didn’t miss the fact that she’d sidestepped his question about friends.

“Probably,” Peter conceded. “How about we make a deal? Let me go back to my ship and figure out how things work around here, and I promise… I _swear_ I won’t leave without coming back to see you. Does that sound fair?”

“I guess…” But she was still staring at her shoes.

“Hey,” he tipped her chin up so that she would look him straight in the eyes. “You believe me, right? I always keep my promises, especially to pretty girls.”

She sniffed but nodded, which was a step up from earlier when he could tell she was well on her way to emotional shutdown. Gamora was going to kill him when they got back to the Milano, he knew. There would be lectures about how rash even such a small promise was, how irresponsible it was to give the girl false hope. The thing was Peter wasn’t so sure that hope _was_ false…

He pushed all that to the back of his mind, smiled again and brushed his thumb across Victoria’s dusky cheek. “Can I have a hug before I go?”

With some hesitation, the little girl wrapped her arms around his neck, and if Peter had any doubt about it before he knew now that he was well and truly screwed.

He always did fall hard and fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You’ll notice I side-stepped the question of Victoria’s mother. That’s because it’s not really made clear in either the comics or the animated series. When Victoria meets J’Son (king of Spartax, her and Peter’s father in other mediums) for the first time around the same age as she is in this story, she asks where her mother is and he simply answers that he doesn’t know so I decided to stick with that since it works for my story.


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last installment in this fic, but wait! There’s more! The series, entitled “Stories from Me to You” after the song “Victoria” by Divinyls, will have as many installments as I have ideas for this setup. Suggestions and requests are welcome and thank you again to everyone who left comments, kudoes and faves!

Peter didn’t know if it was better or worse that the rest of the adult crew had not yet returned from their evening of drinking, gambling and whatever else they were doing. Better because he really didn’t want to get into the inevitable shouting match he knew was coming in front of their friends. Worse because, damn, he could’ve really use a big, solid, Drax-shaped buffer when Gamora inevitably decided take his head off.

Maybe if he got inside the Milano before her… and got to his quarters… basically, the equivalent of a child hiding from a monster under a blanket. Except in this case the monster was a very beautiful woman and the blanket was a modified Ravager ship that was less than useless against her.

“I’m going to double check our docking permit,” he declared as soon as they were inside, increasing the frequency of his strides towards the nose of the vessel.

“Peter…”

Damn, he’d almost made it. With his back still to her, he took a moment to make his face as neutral as possible and turned toward her. Contrary to his earlier expectations, Gamora didn’t look angry. Rather her face held a rare soft, sympathetic expression that he’d last seen directed at him after Yondu’s death. _This_ , Peter thought miserably, _is going to be so much worse than I thought_.

“Yeah?” He hoped he sounded casual enough.

“You know we to talk.”

Peter made a face. “Did _you_ know that’s practically the last thing any guy wants to hear from the girl he… has an unspoken thing with?”

“You have to hear this,” she insisted. “I know how much family means to you, how much you’ve suffered for it. But you _do_ understand that that child can’t come with us. You said so yourself: we can’t just _take_ her.”

In that moment, Peter realized that he was going to be the angry one in this argument. The universe - Ego, really - had taken away all the family he’d ever had except the other Guardians and that was by some sheer luck. It was going to pry his baby sister out of his cold dead hands. The image of Yondu, frost creeping over his face as the man who raised him took his last breaths, came unbidden, and Peter shuttered.

“It’s not like we’re abducting the princess of Spartax.” He shot back at Gamora. “No one’s going to care! That gold lady even said she waited to hand her over to me because, oh right, I’m her family!” Peter fully recognized that that it was nearly the same argument he’d used when she had questioned Ego’s intentions but he didn’t care. “She’s seven and she has no one else! What am I supposed to do?”

“You’re supposed to be the adult and do what’s best for her,” his friend replied calmly. “She has a life here, Peter. I’d understand if she was in trouble, if there was some kind of danger…”

“Want to talk danger? She’s the daughter of a Celestial!” He threw up his hands. “Don’t you think _somewhere_ , _someone_ is going to find that _interesting_? Probably don’t need to go too far. I hear the emperor of Spartax is a real piece of work.”

“You lost all your powers when Ego was destroyed,” Gamora pointed out. “I doubt Victoria ever manifested any to begin with.”

“Bad guys don’t know that!”

“What in blazes are you two yellin’ about?”

Both of them turned at once to see Rocket and Drax standing a few feet away. They must have returned a short while after he and Gamora had, but neither noticed amidst their argument. Baby Groot, probably awakened by that same commotion, was nestled against Drax’s shoulder, yawning. Their teammates looked at both of them expectantly, and Peter supposed it was as good a time as any to explain why he’d actually brought them to the planet. It didn’t take long, and by the end the five of them were gathered in the cockpit, everyone but himself sitting.

“I am glad for you, Quill.” For perhaps the first time he’d known him, Drax had just the right thing to say. “Is she well?”

“Yeah.” Peter felt the warmth of pride spread through his chest. “You should see her, man. She’s talented and beautiful and so, _so_ smart. Much smarter than me, that’s for sure.”

“Not that it takes much,” the raccoon puffed out a laugh, but even his usually snarky expression softened as he shook his head. “We can’t, Quill. With what we do… Space’s no place for a kid.”

“ _I_ was raised in space,” Peter hissed back, now mindful of the little tree-child in Drax’s arms. “And Groot’s a kid!”

“Groot’ll be big again soon ‘nough, and I’m bettin’ he’s a hell lot tougher than some little girl.”

“Victoria’s tough!”

He knew Rocket had meant something along the lines of ‘more durable’, which was probably true. There was very little that could do any permanent harm to the tree creature. Helpless, Peter leaned against the bulkhead and looked to Drax for any glimmer of backup. The big man was sitting quietly, but after a heartbeat, he met his eyes.

“I have loved my daughter from her first breath to…” he trailed off, unable to continue without choking on emotion. “Were I able to be with her, no force in the universe would part us.”

Peter took that as support and nodded in gratitude. But looking back at Gamora and Rocket, he saw that they were far from convinced. The problem was, if he stopped to look at it logically, he knew his arguments were all weak. Victoria could probably live out the rest of her life on Spartax and be perfectly fine. She’d be upset with him for a while, but eventually she’d forgive, maybe even forget.

The problem was that when it came to family and friends, Peter’s heart overwrote his head every single time.

“I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation,” he declared, pushing himself off the wall. “This isn’t up for a vote. Last time I checked, I was still captain and this was still my ship. If you don’t like it… well, sorry.”

With that final word, he stalked off to his quarters. He knew how shitty it all sounded, but with the mood he was in Peter care less. Yondu would’ve - and had on many occasions - said it outright: don’t like the captain’s rules, get off the ship. He couldn’t quite bring himself to be that cold to his friends, but Peter wasn’t going to bend on this one, no matter what Gamora and Rocket thought.

Because music had always been the best distraction from all his problems, Peter fell backwards on the bed, closed his eyes, and let Dobie Gray take his mind off everything. Even having listened to everything on the Zune once through, he hadn’t gone much past the early 90s when it came to replaying the songs. The later stuff still sounded too strange to him though Peter had a feeling they’d grow on him eventually.

 _Wonder what kind of music Vicky likes_ , he thought, absently drumming his fingers against his chest. _What’re the chances we can get some good kid-friendly movies up here? What was that one with Bowie..._

His train of thought was interrupted when his peripheral vision caught the motion of the door to his quarters slide open then closed again as Gamora stepped inside but didn’t move far from the entrance. _I really need to remember to start locking that thing_ , Peter thought in annoyance and contemplated continuing to ignore her before deciding against it and releasing a deep sigh.

“I don’t want to fight,” he said quietly, still staring at the ceiling and not bothering to remove the earbuds. “Of all people, I thought you’d understand. I know how badly you wanted Nebula to stay.”

“You know that’s different. Nebula’s an adult,” Gamora pointed out gently. “A highly trained adult who’s more than capable of looking after herself.”

Peter turned his head slightly and gave her a look. “Does that mean you worry about her any less?”

“No,” she admitted. “She’s my sister. I grew up with her.”

Something in the way she said that last part made him pause. Peter frowned, then finally pulled out the earbuds and raised himself on his elbows slightly to look at her in earnest. “You think I want Victoria here just because she’s Ego’s kid?”

“Isn’t that what this has all been about?”

“No! I mean, yes, of course she’s blood, but it’s so much more than that.” Swinging both legs over the side of the bed, Peter sat on the edge and held up the small music device in his hand. “This is what my _real_ dad left me. This and Victoria. I wouldn’t have her if it wasn’t for Yondu, and this is _all_ I have left of him. Please, _please_ , don’t take her away from me.”

He didn’t realize he was crying until Gamora stepped forward, cupped his face, and gently brushed her thumbs over both his cheeks. When she sat down by his side and entwined his fingers with hers, they were wet. Now that the floodgates were open, he felt like he was drowning in the fallout of everything that had happened over the last few weeks, like he couldn’t make the tears stop.

“I’m on your side, Peter,” Gamora’s voice was a gentle whisper as she ran her fingers through his hair in a comforting rhythm. “I’m always on your side.”

“I know I should’ve probably never come here, should’ve left her alone to be adopted by some nice family,” he choked on the words. “I’m not stupid, ‘mora, just selfish. So selfish…”

“A little,” she agreed, then pressed her lips against his temple. “We’ll make it work.”

He must have registered that as acceptance but at it took a little while longer for the tears to slow, and by the end Peter felt exhausted, like a wrung out sponge. At some point he found himself lying down again, eyes closed, but Gamora was still by his side, still stroking his hair. It was only when he felt the mattress shift as she rose to leave that Peter opened his eyes again.

“Stay,” he whispered, catching her hand. “Nothing else. Just… stay with me tonight.”

He couldn’t quite see the expression on her face, but after a heart beat, Gamora dimmed the lights, removed her boots and settled on top of the covers facing him. Their hands were still clasped together on the pillow between them. Peter scooted closer to her, not quite touching anywhere else but enough that he could feel comforting warmth radiating from her body. Gamora simply gave his hand a small squeeze in response.

“Sleep, Star-Lord. You have a busy day tomorrow.”

* * *

When he awoke, at first Peter couldn’t quite place his finger on what exactly the odd sensation was. Then, as he came more awake, he realized that it was the glorious feeling of the first night of good sleep he’d had in weeks. No nightmares, no anxiety about the future. Nervousness, sure - it was going to be a big day, after all - but Peter couldn’t remember when he’d felt this well-rested. Next to him, Gamora’s eyes were still closed, her clothes a little rumpled for having been slept in, but her face was relaxed and scerene.

Peter couldn’t remember ever thinking she looked more beautiful than this.

Careful not to wake her, he rolled off the other side of the bed and made his way to the adjacent bathroom to make himself more presentable. When he emerged, Gamora still hadn’t risen but rolled over to the other side, and something told him she was at least partially awake now. Walking back to her side of the bed, Peter leaned down slightly to whisper.

“If I kiss you, are you you going to pull a knife on me again?”

A ghost of a smile tugged at Gamora’s mouth. “Try it and find out.”

Without any hesitation, he pressed his lips against her cheek and stood back up. Gamora let out a laugh and finally opened her eyes.

“I can’t decide if that was a good move or not.”

“Well, I’m not dead and you’re smiling,” he grinned back at her. “So I’m going to go ahead and call it a win.”

“That seems fair.” She raised herself on one elbow and looked him up and down, noting the fresh clothes. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, thanks,” Peter declined. “Not that I don’t want you there, but I have someone else in mind. But if you want to do me a favor, you can make sure Rocket cleans up all his explosives and actually keeps them confined to his room or engineering for once. Threaten to eat him if he doesn’t.”

“Because that always works.” Gamora sat up, stretching. “Fine. I’ll get Drax to help if I have to.”

Peter nodded and was halfway to the door before the process of elimination caught up to him. He stopped and turned his head, frowning at her. “How’d you know I was taking Groot?”

Gamora just rolled her eyes in response.

He found the youngest of the crew in the galley, sipping water from the smallest glass they had. Groot grinned at him and held out his twig-like arms expectantly. “I am Groot?”

“Sorry, bud, no tunes right now. Want to go on a field trip with me instead?”

* * *

 

He was pretty sure he hadn’t signed so much paperwork in his life. Well, that wasn’t quite true because the paperwork was actually digital and his signature was usually a thumb print on the data-pad at the bottom of each page. Peter supposed he couldn’t complain too much. It was understandable that they’d make you sign tones of stuff before they released a small child into your custody, and he really wanted to do this one by the book.

The only time he paused was when he came to a blank box marked Family Name. How would his mom feel about him giving her last name to Ego’s daughter? The thought made him sick, not because he thought for a moment Meredith would have held anything against the child, but because thinking of the Celestial and his mother or that precious little girl in the same sentence made his stomach churn. He’d be damned if he’d let that monster taint anything about either of them.

Setting his jaw, Peter quickly typed ‘Quill’ in the box.

“That should do it,” he said to himself and looked over at Groot, hard at work a few feet away. “You all done over there, little guy?”

“I... am... Groot.” There was a definite look of determination on the sapling’s face. After a moment he turned around and presented his little project for inspection. “I am Groot!”

“That’s fantastic,” Peter gave him a thumbs up as Groot hopped onto his shoulder. “Give them to her yourself, okay?”

Just in that moment, the office door opened and it was almost a deja vu of last evening. The same gold woman walked through with Victoria behind her, except this time in addition to her duffel bag, the girl carried a small backpack. Peter rose from his seat, nodded to the woman that all the paperwork was in proper order, and then bent down to study Victoria’s face. The girl bit her lip.

“Really?” Her eyes still held caution, like she dared not hope.

“Really, really,” Peter smiled, because if he didn’t smile, he’d cry, and he’d cried enough recently. “Hey, I have someone else here who’d really like to meet you. Groot, this is Vicky, my baby sister.”

Taking that as his cue, Groot waved from his spot on Peter’s shoulder and extending his other hand, held out a small, simple bouquet of flowers to her.

“I am Groot!” the other child said by way of greeting.

Delighted, Victoria waved back and accepted the flowers with all the grace of an actual princess. “Thank you, Groot. They’re really pretty.”

“I am Groot!” Groot puffed out his chest, beaming with pride.

Slightly confused, the girl looked at Peter for an explanation, but he just grinned. “You’ll figure out what he means soon enough. Got everything?” He glanced over at her backpack and duffel bag. “Did you take… um… any toys?”

“No,” but she didn’t look terribly broken up about it, attention focused on curiously studying Groot’s bouquet. “I left them for the other kids.”

 _Such a simple gesture…_ Peter hung his head. Had he ever been this selfless?

“We’ll get you new ones,” he promised and held out his hand to her. “Ready to go? I don’t know about you, but I’d love to get some breakfast.”

Spartax wasn’t so bad, all things considered. Sure, the lack of ice cream was a problem, but there was a diner that looked and smelled pretty appealing. He picked a table outside, ordered five different dishes for the sole purpose of figuring out what Victoria liked best, and made a mental note to bring more to the Milano as a peace offering to Rocket and to have a little more variety in general.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask,” he by way of conversation, looking around casually at the city. “Who’s the guy in all the statues?”

He’d been wondering ever since they got to the planet. The capitol at least was practically littered with statues of a stern bearded man in what appeared to be a military dress uniform. Someone sure had an inflated sense of importance as far as Peter was concerned.

“That’s emperor J’Son.” Victoria didn’t even look up from her food. She’d probably seen them a million times considering how many there were and was unlikely to have any opinion about politics.

“Huh.” Her brother rubbed his chin. “Looks kind of like Riker.”

“Who?”

“William Riker.” Peter grinned. “He was the commander of this really awesome starship called the _Enterprise_ under Captain Jean-Luc Picard.” _Never did find out how that series ended..._

“Oh?” Victoria raised her eyes curiously. “Were they pirates you worked with?”

“Nah,” he waved dismissively and leaned back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head. “Now don’t get me wrong, baby sis, they were cool, just not cool enough to hang with the crew I sailed with. But let me tell you about the greatest Ravager captain of all time…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those unfamiliar with the Guardians of the Galaxy animated series, Jonathan Frakes who played Commander Riker on Star Trek: TNG also voiced J’Son (Peter and Victoria’s father in the show and comics). And yup, in the show he literally had a city full of statues to himself :)


End file.
